06/29/00 8:38 a.m.--15 hours, 22 minutes, and counting (unless I leave early today, and of course I'm thinking of doing so...)
"...I'll never give up...Because what is there to give up, anyway?...I'm just working for a living, working for my pay..."
Can anyone tell me why Vonda Shepard is doing Hardee's commercials? Not that I mind her gracing my t.v., mind you. I just liken it to, say, Mozart writing radio jingles. Okay, maybe not that extreme...but it's still disturbing.
And speaking of disturbing, has anyone out there in diaryland (or web land, for that matter) heard anything about this girl? Am I the only one out there who is mildly disturbed by her lack of updates? Unless maybe she went out and got a life, unlike the rest of us...
Okay, so...I think I may be out of the hailstorm, at least for the moment. As I said, it changes hourly. But Megan told me yesterday when I came home from walking the dogs that she thinks we should be "broken up" only trying to be (or remain) friends, and maybe in being friends, we can learn to "like and respect each other" again (did we ever respect each other, I wonder?) and eventually end up back together, and if not, well, at least we'll be friends. She also said that she "wouldn't leave you high and dry" with regard to the house, and that it's a worthwhile investment for her, so if it came to that, she would give me ample notice prior to moving out and she wouldn't try to sell until I'm ready to move.
The girl is so hot and cold, it's like living with Sybil. I often expect to come home and find her under the dining room table screaming "hold that water!" It's creepy.
Anyway, I told her that sounded good to me. She actually bought me dinner (Chipotle, home of the biggest $5 burritos you've ever seen). No fights, no screaming, no nothing. It was refreshing.
Until that point, however, I was not a happy camper yesterday. I was feeling like a bit of a louse over the whole X thing, plus the added threat of losing my home...it was ugly. I left around 4:30 and Caleb caught me in the elevator and offered me a cigarette. So I went to the roof with him and accepted his offer. (He smokes some freaky "natural tobacco" cigarettes that are like, $5 a pack, but they're super duper strong. They make me twitch. Better than drugs!) And I told him the whole icky story and while he was very sympathetic, he didn't have much to offer in the way of advice. I know you're never supposed to offer a friend advice but if you know they're probably going to ignore you and do their own thing anyway, I don't see what the big deal is. And for someone like me, sometimes it sparks other ideas.
I went home after our smoke break and the first thing I see when I walk into the backyard is that my tomatoes are dying. EEEK! The Romas were the worst--all totally wilted and sad looking. I nearly threw myself at the garden hose and gave them a good soaking. (They perked up by early evening, by the way.) Then I staked a couple of the vines that were getting a bit dangly. The rest of my plants looked very good, so I saddled up the dogs and took them to the field.
I wasn't even really in the mood for company. I was in such a low, low mood that I didn't think even Zak could do any better. As always, he managed to surprise me. We were down at the base of the hill, near the street where Martha nearly met her maker last week. The dogs were kind of lounging in the tall grass and I was sitting on the big old log that has conveniently created a nice little 2-seater bench, smoking a cigarette and feeling sorry for myself. Well, mostly trying to figure out a way out of my plot, but feeling sorry for myself, too. The dogs saw him and Rex at the top of the hill and went running to greet him (what am I, chopped liver?) and Rex came running down the hill to greet me. It must have been obvious that I wasn't thrilled with life, because he said something about me not looking very happy for someone who's got 2 days left on the job. I told him about Megan's threat to sell and started whimpering. At which point he told me to "move over, your ass isn't that big that you need the whole thing" and sat down next to me. He started talking about all sorts of shit that basically all made the point "it doesn't matter, everything works out." When he was talking about the $25k hospital bills he racked up from his motorcycle accident last year, and the fact that the Missouri taxpayers are taking care of them for him because he gave them a phony address or something, he patted me on the back and said "thanks." I rolled my eyes and said "hey, anytime, glad I could help." But his words actually made me feel less like a loser and more like things really would work out. Not to mention the fact that him sitting so close to me made me about jump out of my shoes. (He wears Eternity, which most people find cliche but just absolutely makes me melt. The roadie wore Eternity, and when he was gone, I'd go to his house and inhale the bottle like it was poppers or something. I don't think I missed him nearly so much as I missed that smell.) He started playing with the big dogs then, which always makes me laugh. Noodle's so in love with him, and it's so funny to watch her swish around him like a cheerleader in heat. We started back up the hill about 20 minutes later and started talking about food. He had turkey burgers for dinner. Ick. So I started giving him shit about being one of those anti-meat freaks. (Denis Leary said it best--"I like to eat red meat from cows that smoked.") He said that's the reason why he doesn't look his age, then admitted to being 38.
Gawd damn, you ARE an old bastard, aren't you? November 6, 1961. Which means I was born 9 days before his 11th birthday. It also means he's a scorpio. Yowza.
Today is the last day I will see him before I come home from Florida. Yesterday, sitting on that stupid log, I wanted to kiss him, very badly...but I didn't. I highly doubt that I will today, either. I don't want to be his girlfriend. I want to be his friend. His friend that he has sex with.
Sometimes I think my life is just sick and wrong.
But I'm feeling pretty good today, I think. Except I'm starving, and I have 70 cents. Hmmm...diet Pepsi, or chips? Decisions, decisions. I have to win the lottery.
(Later) It's such a beautiful day outside that it seems a total waste of an afternoon off to sit in here, at the school computer lab, doing this. But I justify it by reminding myself that in a couple of days, I will be spending a week on a Florida beach. I don't think I'll be at a loss for sunshine. And my thoughts are currently so disjointed that I can't even hand-write them because they move more quickly than my hand, and I can't keep up. Plus I had to get out of the house because it was so cold--literally, I set the thermostat at 72, not so bright considering outside it's only about 76. So here I am.
Megan's car is parked about six cars behind mine. We're in the same building. I'm pretty sure it was her orange bag and yellow shirt I saw sitting in the lounge when I got on the elevator. How fucking perfect. Maniacal, mad-scientist laughter time--hahahahahaha...I think I am going insane...
But wait, there's more...